


before you even knew i was gone

by tmylm



Series: before you even knew i was gone [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Bechloe AU, Bechloe Halloween, Character Death, F/F, Halloween, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 19:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: "Beca watches as the figure eventually turns and continues her previous path, and Beca is either instantly forgotten about, or she was never even a consideration to begin with.That is the first time Beca sees the woman she will go on to know as Chloe Beale. She doesn’t realize that it won’t be the last."





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Not so much horror, but some definite eeriness for the spooky season. Further notes at the end of the final chapter — I'd rather not give anything away too soon!

Normally, Beca would point blank refuse a trip like this. At twenty-one years old, she can tolerate her step-mother, she can be civil toward her, but she doesn’t particularly _like_ her. It is a mutual understanding between the two, and the only person who seems to be unhappy with it is Beca’s father, who spends most of his time trying to push the two closer together.

“What are you wearing for the wedding, Bec?” Warren had asked conversationally from the backseat of the Uber to their beachfront hotel earlier in the day.

“Blue dress,” Beca had mumbled in response from the passenger seat, gaze cast out of the window as the sights of South Carolina passed her by.

“Hey, Sheila’s dress is blue. Looks like my girls are going to be matching!”

“I meant black,” Beca had mumbled, promptly stomping on her father’s desperate attempt at common ground.

“Oh.”

Beca had ignored the hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Black for a wedding?”

“It’s a Halloween wedding, Warren,” Sheila had pointed out, voice much too cheerful for Beca’s liking. “I think black is perfect.”

Beca hadn’t humored her step-mother with a response, and nobody had pushed for anything more.

See? Mutual understanding.

Of course, cousin’s wedding or not, Beca would’ve protested much harder had she realized the setup of their hotel room in advance.

(In her father’s defense, he also hadn’t realized they’d all be in one room.)

“Beca can take the bed,” Sheila had offered politely, and while it really would’ve been Beca’s preference, that would’ve meant agreeing with the step-monster, so Beca had promptly declined, muttering something about how she’d rather be by the window anyway.

So, with her father and Sheila sleeping soundly in the king-sized bed, and Beca’s things poured out messily onto the pullout couch, Beca is decidedly not going to be sleeping throughout this whole trip.

But that’s okay with her; she has her laptop (of course), and the chair out on the balcony where she finds herself curled up currently is pretty comfortable, she supposes. At least as far as outdoor furniture goes, anyway.

For October, it is a pretty nice night out. Beca wears a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, and finds that she isn’t cold. In fact, the soft breeze whistling by into the otherwise still night time of Myrtle Beach is a welcomed one, and the scene before her could definitely be worse.

So far, Beca’s main focus has been on her laptop screen, though as she replays her newly spliced tracks through her headphones, she allows her gaze to drift out over the balcony’s edge, the sight of the beach, still and serene, incredibly calming. It is a backdrop Beca could very much get used to, in fact. It’s almost like a foreshadowing of things to come, when Beca is done with the four years of college she promised her father she’d see through, and is living in her own beachfront home in Los Angeles, looking out over the ocean as she works on new music for big name artists.

Okay, so maybe it’s a far off dream, but it’s one Beca will never stop reaching for. Tonight only intensifies that need within her.

The longer she sits here, however, the repetitive sound of the new track swirling through her large, background noise-canceling headphones, the heavier Beca’s lids grow. While she is not completely opposed to sleeping outside, Beca is positive her back won’t thank her for it in the morning. So, she reaches over to set her laptop carefully down on the small glass table in front of her, pulling her body from the chair to finally stretch her legs.

The balcony isn’t exactly huge, Beca can only take a few steps each way before hitting a wall, but it is better than nothing. Soon, Beca is pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her hands, arms folding neatly across the top bar of the balcony’s edge. Her eyes scan the gentle waves lapping the shore down below.

It was after three, the last Beca checked the time in the top right of her computer screen, so the figure pulling her focus from the corner of her eye seems somewhat out of place. Then again, Beca is awake, so there is really no reason someone else can’t be, too. However, Beca is technically in her hotel room (or at least on it’s adjoining balcony); she can only imagine how uncomfortably cold it must be for the unfamiliar woman whose bare feet are slowly covered, over and over, by the softly crashing waves below.

For some reason, Beca finds herself watching her. They’re on one of the higher floors, so the mystery woman on the beach is hard to make out too clearly, but Beca can see the flash of red hair each time the light reflects from the water, the way the airy skirt of her light colored dress blows gently in the breeze.

Beca isn’t much of a people-watcher. In fact, she’s barely even a people _person_, but there’s something intriguing about the girl walking by the water, and Beca can’t quite put her finger on exactly what it is. Maybe it is the way she just doesn’t seem to care. It’s after three, and she’s walking the empty beach alone. With the way she moves so breezily, Beca is willing to bet she’s probably humming to herself. Not that she can hear her; she’s too far away, but her eyes stay trained on the mystery woman, even as she turns to gaze right back up at her.

“Shit,” Beca hisses, quickly crouching her knees in an attempt to duck below the barrier of the balcony.

It is only at that point that she realizes it’s transparent.

“Perfect,” Beca mutters, unsure of what to do next. For all she knows, she hasn’t been seen; she’s high up, it’s likely the redhead can’t see anything. Beca finds herself watching, though. She watches the way she stares up at her, the way she’s almost positive she can see her eyes glistening beneath the glow of the moonlight bouncing off the water, even from this distance.

Beca watches as the figure eventually turns and continues her previous path, and Beca is either instantly forgotten about, or she was never even a consideration to begin with.

That is the first time Beca sees the woman she will go on to know as Chloe Beale. She doesn’t realize that it won’t be the last.

* * *

“Bec?”

Her father’s voice cuts into her peaceful sleep, though Beca’s lids remain shut.

“Did you sleep out here? Jesus, Beca,” Warren mutters judgmentally, hand reaching out to gently nudge her shoulder.

Beca’s lids finally flutter open, a pointed glare sent her father’s way, even in her sleepy state.

“Why would you do that? Isn’t that hurting your neck?”

Until now, Beca hasn’t really taken note of the position she is currently curled in. Truth be told, she doesn’t even remember going to sleep. She remembers standing by the balcony, remembers watching an unfamiliar woman, the distant image of whom is still burned into her tired mind, and then her father is waking her up, and that is all of the sense Beca can make of the situation.

“Couldn’t sleep on the couch,” Beca mumbles lazily, untucking her legs from beneath herself and stretching them over the edge of the seat. She begins to push herself upright, ignoring the way her neck cracks in the process.

Warren’s hand lifts to rub over the back of his neck, head shaking in probable disappointment. Or maybe he feels bad? Maybe he thinks he should’ve insisted harder that Beca take the bed. Either way, he chooses not to fight her, and instead just allows a small sigh to leave his lips.

“Sheila and I are going to grab some breakfast,” Warren says, frown wrinkling his brow. “I guess you don’t want to come with us?”

Beca swiftly shakes her head, repositioning herself slightly. “Pass.”

“Alright,” Warren nods shortly, gaze sweeping across the beach. Beca’s eyes follow, and she notices immediately that it is much more crowded now than it had been last night. “Maybe you want to go get some sleep inside. You can take the bed, we’ll be gone for a few hours. Sheila wants to do some shopping while we’re out.”

“Of course she does,” Beca mumbles bitterly under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not happy about this, Bec,” Warren states, though he has already admitted defeat and begun to head back through the sliding doors and into the hotel room. “We’ll rethink the sleeping arrangements tonight.”

“Looking forward to it,” Beca responds sarcastically.

Perhaps it is kind of childish, the way Beca still acts like a spoiled kid whenever she’s with her father, but there is some resentment there, something Beca has tried hard to let go of for years now, but her efforts have gone to no avail. Warren may not like it, but fortunately (or unfortunately, depending) he’s used to it, and has learned by now that fighting back will get him nowhere. So he leaves, the sound of Sheila’s footsteps joining his dutifully the closer they get to the door. Then, they are gone, and Beca has the room to herself.

Sleeping would probably be a good idea, it wasn’t like she’d gotten much of it last night. But instead Beca finds herself using the time to jump in the shower, letting the water wash away the smell of the ocean air from her body, before tugging on a pair of faded shorts and a gray colored tee. Beca positions her headphones comfortably over her ears, before departing from the empty room, unsure of where exactly she is headed.

The beach, apparently.

It’s not like Beca really cares much about tanning, but it seems like a waste to be in a literal beachfront hotel and not at least go down there once. Besides, she has nothing else to do. The wedding isn’t until tomorrow, and she’d beaten the horse that is her new mix to death already last night. So, the beach it is, and Beca realizes upon finding an empty space amidst the swimsuit-clad bodies laid across the sand that perhaps she should’ve brought a towel with her. Because for October? Man, the sand is _hot_; it burns the bottoms of her feet. In fact, if it wasn’t for how unappealing the idea of shoes filled with grains of sand was, she would slip her sneakers back on, but they remain in her hand, with Beca edging closer toward the water.

It isn’t exactly freezing. It’s not too warm either, though. The way it soothes her feet is welcomed, and Beca can’t help but think back to last night, to how much colder it must’ve been without the sun beating down onto the waves. She doesn’t envy the mystery redhead, that’s for damn sure.

It’s like something from a movie, one of those embarrassingly cheesy ones that Beca avoids in particular, the way her gaze drifts upward, a now almost familiar sight catching her eye—the very one she’d just been thinking of.

The figure is walking toward her, feet still dipping in the softly lapping waves as she moves. She’s wearing the same dress that she wore last night, and Beca notices, from this distance, that she isn’t wearing shoes—nor is she carrying any. Beca watches her with a furrowed brow, wondering if she’ll recognize her, too.

Of course she won’t—Beca was a dot in the distance last night, she’s sure of it.

However, the closer she gets, it seems that the redhead has to do a double take. Beca notes that the expression on her face is almost confused for a second or two.

She doesn’t know where it comes from; Beca is not the type to talk to strangers—it’s difficult for her friends to get a full conversation from her half the time—but her mouth is opening before she can even stop it, and Beca is met with further confusion as she speaks.

“Hey, didn’t I see you last night?” Beca questions with a tilted head, gaze locking with the other woman’s. Beca dutifully tugs her headphones away from her ears and proceeds to hang them loosely around her neck. Although she’d noticed her eyes shining last night, she hadn’t been able to see the color. From here, though, the crystal blue is so clear, almost hypnotically so. Honestly, Beca finds it hard to look away.

The woman doesn’t respond at first, she just stares, before eventually lifting a crooked finger to motion toward herself. “Who, me?”

Beca nods, tongue flicking out to lick over her lips. “You were on the beach, right? Somewhere around here, in fact.”

There is a look of bewilderment glazing over blue eyes, the way she studies Beca almost judgmental. The look causes Beca to shift a little uncomfortably on the spot, gaze finally tearing from the other’s to glance down at her feet as the water laps over them.

“Yeah, I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong,” Beca continues with a somewhat awkward cough, throat suddenly dry. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the redhead says, gaze scanning momentarily down Beca’s body. Beca isn’t looking her way, but she can see her from the corner of her eye, see the way she is studying her almost quizzically, until she can feel her stare burning into her face again. Beca can’t help but glance toward her, the two locking eyes once more.

And that’s as far as their first conversation goes, before the redhead is moving around her, and Beca finds herself watching again as she walks away.


	2. Two

Although she is forced to go to dinner with her dad and Sheila, Beca spends the majority of the day alone. That’s nothing too taxing for her, of course; Beca likes her own company, she can exist peacefully alone. She finds that she is a little on edge, though, like she’s waiting for something.

Or someone.

Regardless, those eyes Beca can’t stop thinking about, the ones that flash into her mind each time she blinks, she doesn’t see them again—not until later that night, anyway.

Despite her father’s insistence, Beca adamantly denies taking the bed. So, he and Sheila eventually admit defeat, until the night almost mirrors the last; the two of them asleep in the king-sized bed, her father snoring quietly, while Beca takes herself out to the balcony, gaze cast out over the now empty beach, just like the night before.

There is something distinctly more peaceful about the scene tonight. The breeze is a little softer, the sound of the slowly moving waves somewhat clearer. Beca’s eyes grow heavier earlier, though she won’t allow herself to sleep. Not until she has caught a glimpse of the reason she’s out here in the first place.

Why it matters to her so much, why she needs to validate her own mind by seeing the redheaded girl again, she truly doesn’t know. All Beca knows is that she cannot rest, not yet. She does, however, occupy the chair again, legs curled comfortably beneath her. Beca takes the time to mindlessly browse through her social media feeds, leaving courtesy likes on random uploads, though her gaze continually flickers from the screen and out over the balcony, down toward the water.

The redhead is further up the beach when she comes into view this time, and Beca lowers her phone, brows tugging tightly together as she watches her. She is wearing a dress again, a different one to last night, as far as Beca can tell. Her red hair flows in neat waves over her shoulders, and her feet glide gently through the water, the same way they did the night before. A part of Beca wants to call down to her, but for starters, she has no idea what her name is.

(The red hair and apparent fascination with the water has her mentally calling her Ariel, but Beca has a feeling that’s probably a reach.)

Secondly, it’s the middle of the night, the atmosphere is quiet and still, people are sleeping, two of them in the very room Beca is currently outside of. So, it is almost without proper thought that Beca rises from her chair, taking another quick glance at the woman by the water, before steadily making her way back through the sliding doors and into the near stillness of the hotel room. Beca isn’t wearing shoes, so it’s easy for her to tiptoe quietly across the floor without making a noise, and while the sound of her opening the door causes her father to pause mid-snore, he goes right back to it once she closes it softly behind her. Safely out of the room, Beca now finds herself tiptoeing the empty corridors until she is downstairs and headed out back to the beach.

By the time she reaches the sand, the redhead has passed the block of balconies where Beca had previously been sitting, but she isn’t too far away. Beca won’t have to run to catch up with her, anyway.

Without the sun shining down onto the sand, it’s much cooler by now, and Beca is grateful for the fact as her feet sink slightly into it with each step she takes toward the water, toward the redhead still making her way down by the water’s edge.

Beca doesn’t say anything, not until she has gotten close enough to do so without having to yell.

“Hey,” Beca finally says, not loudly enough to startle the other woman the way she does. Beca instantly feels bad; the last thing she’d wanted to do was scare her.

The redhead stops in her tracks, shoulders tensing, before whirling around to lock eyes with Beca again. Her brows tug together, the same way they had earlier, and Beca finds that her own do the same in response.

“I knew it,” Beca continues, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt down and over her hands. She lifts her arms to cross over her middle, walking a little more slowly now that the other girl has stopped. “I knew that I saw you.”

The redhead mirrors Beca’s stance, arms folding across her middle, too. “Are you stalking me or something?”

The question causes an awkward laugh to fall quietly from Beca’s lips, before she quickly shakes her head. “No. I just couldn’t sleep last night,” she explains, lifting one hand to motion over her shoulder and toward the hotel, “I was sitting out on the balcony, and I saw you. I thought you saw me, too.”

“And tonight?” The redhead asks, glancing briefly over Beca’s shoulder and toward the hotel balconies. Her gaze soon fixes itself back on Beca again. “You were… Waiting for me?”

“No,” Beca responds quickly, though they both know it’s a lie. Though, she doesn’t know exactly _why_ she was waiting for her, why she needed so badly to see her again. It is clear that the other girl doesn’t really get it, either. “I just couldn’t sleep again.”

The redhead eyes Beca curiously for a moment, before finally nodding her head.

“Uh, you really like your late night walks, huh?” Beca asks, almost wanting to move closer, though she stays put, stays where she is. The redhead does the same. “Where are you staying? Which hotel?”

“I’m not,” the redhead responds, the way she shakes her head causing her curls to shake gently. Beca notices the way they flow over her shoulders, and wonders why she is paying such close attention to minor details. “I live here.”

Beca arches a brow. “What, here? On the beach?”

The redhead responds with a gentle laugh. It is the first time Beca has seen her not looking uncomfortably confused, and Beca can’t help but notice the way her eyes crinkle softly at the corners, the way her whole face seems to light up with such a subtle action. “No. Here in Myrtle Beach,” she explains, “This is the only time there’s ever any peace. Late at night.”

“I get that,” Beca nods, “Living in a vacation town must suck, huh?”

“It’s okay,” the redhead shrugs. “I like people. I find them fascinating.”

Beca doesn’t realize how intently she is staring at her face, how carefully she is watching her, not until her gaze lowers briefly, and she notices that her feet are hidden beneath the water.

“Dude, isn’t that cold?” Beca questions, motioning toward her feet.

The other girl glances down briefly, before shrugging a shoulder once more. “Not really.”

Beca decides to just take her word for it.

“What’s your name?”

For someone who apparently finds people fascinating, this is the first time the redhead has shown any interest in asking questions, in knowing anything about Beca.

“Beca,” Beca responds, “If you tell me yours is Ariel, then this just got weird.”

There is a soft, breathy laugh from the other girl, her stance seeming to relax slightly. “You waited on your balcony for me for the second night in a row. It’s already weird,” she points out, though her tone is softer than it had been previously, less defensive. “Chloe,” she continues simply, “Not Ariel.”

Beca nods in response, but she doesn’t really know what to say now. Honestly, she still doesn’t know why she is even down here, still doesn’t know why this whole meeting was so important to her. She does know that she doesn’t want to leave yet, though. Doesn’t want to leave Chloe.

“Uh,” Beca begins, gaze drifting past Chloe and down the length of the beach. “Can I walk with you?”

Chloe eyes her for a moment, that suspicious look returning briefly, before finally nodding her head. “I mean, you can, but I’m not really going anywhere. I’m just walking.”

“That’s okay,” Beca shrugs, feet beginning to move, carrying her closer toward Chloe. “I’m not exactly trying to sight-see.”

“Right,” Chloe nods, feet moving to fall in step with Beca, “You just couldn’t sleep.”

“Right.”

Normally, in a situation like this, Beca would—

Well, no, Beca wouldn’t normally _be_ in a situation like this. But if, for some reason, she was, she’d probably feel uncomfortable. She notices that she doesn’t, though; even as she and Chloe walk in silence, Beca notes that it is not an uncomfortable one. If anything, it’s peaceful. The sound of the waves lapping with Chloe’s footsteps is soothing. Beca can see the appeal of the late night walks, she can understand why Chloe likes them so much. Quiet is more Beca’s thing, too.

“How long have you been in Myrtle Beach?” Beca asks into the quiet, tone conversational. “Have you always lived here?”

“Mm,” Chloe thinks for a moment, “A few years now. I’m originally from North Carolina, but this has been a big vacation spot for my family ever since I was little. Kind of just feels like a second home, you know?”

“Right,” Beca nods. If the furthest she ever gets from home is the next state over, she’ll be anything but happy about it. Chloe seems content, though, so each to their own, Beca figures.

“Where are you from?”

“Seattle. It’s way colder than it is here,” Beca explains, “My cousin is marrying some dude from South Carolina, though. So we’re here for the wedding.”

“A wedding?” Chloe chirps, interest lacing her tone. Beca takes note of the way her eyes sparkle in apparent wonder. “I love weddings.”

“Yeah?” Beca questions, smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, “You wanna go in my place?”

Chloe chuckles in response, gaze moving down toward her feet. “I think your family might notice we switched places.”

“Maybe,” Beca agrees, frown settling on her face. “I hate weddings. Honestly, I didn’t even want to come.”

“Then why did you?” Chloe questions, intrigued. Beca can see the way Chloe is studying her from the corner of her eye, but she chooses not to look Chloe’s way in return.

Beca just shrugs in response. “I don’t know. It was important to my dad, I guess. I don’t really spend a lot of time with his side of the family. Not since he and my mom divorced. We were pretty close before that,” Beca continues, words coming easily, which is entirely unlike her. Beca can communicate perfectly through music. But words? Not so much—and especially not about herself. “He just, like, really wanted me to come. And I didn’t want to look like a total dick by saying no, you know?” Beca pauses briefly, soft chuckle falling from her lips. “And I have no idea why I’m telling you all of this. Sorry. I don’t normally talk about myself like this.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Chloe questions, head tilted slightly as she eyes Beca. “I like hearing it. I told you, I find people fascinating.”

“Yeah,” Beca says, brows rising sarcastically, “Well, there’s nothing more fascinating than a divorce story.”

Chloe doesn’t respond, she just keeps walking, keeps watching Beca in the process. Beca can see her, despite not looking her way, and clears her throat awkwardly again.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Chloe asks.

“I don’t know. I basically just told you about my whole troubled past. Tell me something about you.”

“Hardly,” Chloe giggles softly, though she considers Beca’s request for a moment, before gently shrugging a shoulder. “I don’t like the water very much.”

Beca’s brows tug together again, gaze instantly moving to Chloe’s feet, still covered by the waves. Apparently, Chloe sees the way she is looking.

“I know,” Chloe chuckles, “It’s kind of weird. I walk through it like this because I’m trying to get used to it. Can’t live this close to the ocean without learning to trust it, right?”

“I guess not,” Beca agrees. “You’re kind of weird, huh?”

Beca’s tone is light, kind of playful, though it is a serious question, a serious analysis from her time with Chloe so far.

Fortunately, Chloe doesn’t seem to take offense. In fact, a grin spreads across her lips in response. “Oh, you have no idea.”

* * *

Beca doesn’t really know how long they walk for. She does know that Chloe seems to open up a bit more, though. In fact, once she starts talking, it almost seems like she can’t stop. Mentally, Beca concludes that Chloe probably doesn’t have very many friends, nor many people to talk to, though Beca doesn’t understand why. Beca finds her intriguing already, just from their one short hang out. It’s weird; Beca never warms to people so quickly, but Chloe feels like an old friend, like someone she has known her entire life, and while confusing, it is not entirely an unwelcome feeling.

By the time they return to the stretch of sand outside of the hotel, Beca has learned plenty about Chloe. She has learned about her family (she likes to talk about them a lot). Beca has learned about her favorite places in Charlotte, North Carolina, where Chloe grew up. A part of her wonders why Chloe doesn’t just move back there; it seems like it’s an important place to her. But it’s not Beca’s place to question that aloud. Plus, she’s kind of glad that Chloe hadn’t come to the realization before now; if she had, this meeting would’ve never happened.

No, it may not have been the most profound, most exciting of meetings, but Beca can’t help but feel like it is an important one. Like it’s going to stick with her. Chloe is going to stick with her, she thinks.

“You should probably get some sleep,” Chloe says once Beca has begun to yawn for about the hundredth time. The sun is beginning to rise, so no wonder she’s so tired. Chloe, however, seems just as energetic as she had the whole time. Come to think of it, Beca hasn’t noticed her yawn once. Chloe motions upward, toward the hotel balconies. “Your dad’s up. He’s probably looking for you.”

Beca’s brow wrinkles as she turns to look over her shoulder, an upward glance showing her that the light in their hotel room is switched on.

“Wait, how did you know that that’s my—”

“I never said I didn’t see you the other night,” Chloe shrugs almost nonchalantly, “I did. And that’s the room, right? The one with the light on?”

Beca is too tired to even question her further, though she does shoot Chloe a quizzical glance, before slowly nodding her head. “Right.”

“Go,” Chloe instructs, “You have your cousin’s wedding to go to today, you have to get at least some sleep.”

In spite of her sleepy state, Beca still manages an arched brow and a subtle smirk as she eyes Chloe briefly. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Chloe chuckles quietly in response, head shaking softly. “Believe me, I’m not. I actually don’t really want you to go.”

The statement is said with such ease and certainty that it cuts Beca off momentarily. Chloe had seemed annoyed by her presence earlier today, then again when she’d approached her tonight. Maybe Beca’s assumption that Chloe doesn’t have many friends is right, maybe she’d just enjoyed the company. Or maybe she’d felt it, too… Whatever Beca is feeling, that instant connection that she can’t quite explain, maybe Chloe feels it, too.

Regardless, Beca doesn’t want to leave her either. Though she really doesn’t know why.

“Go,” Chloe says again, voice a little softer by now. “I live here, remember? I’ll be here once the wedding’s over.”

As much as Beca wants to protest, as much as she wants to insist that she is fine for a couple more hours, she is soon yawning again, and she knows that it’s time to admit defeat.

“Alright,” Beca finally agrees, “You’re right.” There is a stretch of silence, an inward battle as Beca considers her next request, before finally just deciding she has nothing to lose. What’s the worst Chloe can say? No? “Uh. Maybe I could,” Beca pauses, hand lifting to rub against the back of her neck. “I don’t know, get your number?”

Beca doesn’t know Chloe well enough to read her expressions yet, though she is almost positive she can see a smile threatening her lips. Chloe does well to hold it back, and just allows her gaze to scan over Beca’s face. “Why do you look so nervous?”

Many times in the past, Beca has mentally cursed herself for how fast she is to blush, and for her inability to even attempt to hide it. She finds herself doing just that now, gaze lowering quickly to her feet. “I don’t know,” Beca shrugs, toes digging into the sand. “I guess I don’t do this a lot. Ask for people’s numbers.”

“You don’t meet many people?”

“I don’t hit on many people.”

“You’re hitting on me?”

Although she is still looking down at her feet, Beca is sure the smile threatening Chloe’s lips before has broken its way right out and across her face. She can _hear_ it in her voice, in the hint of amusement her soft tone is laced with.

Beca just laughs quietly in response, lifting a hand to cover her eyes. “You’re making this weird.”

It is almost like there’s some kind of outside force here, some kind of pull that causes Beca to finally tilt her face to lock eyes with Chloe, even if it is through her parted fingers for the time being. She learns right away that she was right, that there is something of a smug smile displayed on Chloe’s lips, and Beca finally drops her hand. There is a bashful look displayed much too obviously on her pale face.

“It’s not weird,” Chloe assures her, the softness of her voice helping her to do so. “But I can’t give you my number. My phone is broken. I promise I’m not blowing you off, though. I’ll be here tomorrow night, just like I was last night and the night before. Maybe a little earlier this time so you can actually get some sleep, okay?”

A part of Beca wonders if Chloe is just humoring her, if she doesn’t want to turn her down to her face. She chooses not to push, and simply nods her head, offering Chloe something of a weak smile. It is interrupted by yet another yawn, though, one that causes Chloe to giggle under her breath, before reaching out a hand to settle gently on Beca’s shoulder. For half a second, it seems like Chloe tenses up, like that spark of electricity shooting through Beca’s body is surging through her own, too. Quickly, though, she relaxes, and Beca notes the soft smile easing onto Chloe’s lips.

“Beca, go. I’ll be here,” Chloe nods, sincerity in her eyes. It is enough to make Beca believe her. “I promise.”


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rated M for smut.

Beca is too tired for the fight that ensues the moment she walks through the hotel room door.

“What the hell were you doing, Beca?” Warren had yelled, with Sheila trying to quieten him, trying to remind him that Beca is twenty-one years old, and that if that’s not enough reason to quit yelling, there are people sleeping in the rooms either side of them.

“I couldn’t sleep, okay? Keep your voice down,” Beca had hissed in response.

“Right,” Warren had scoffed, “So you thought you’d go walking the beach alone in the middle of the night. And without your phone. Why do I even pay the bill?”

Beca had simply rolled her eyes, marching past him to go retrieve her phone from the balcony. “I’ll pay it myself,” she’d grumbled. “And I wasn’t alone. I was with a friend.”

“All of those friends you have in Myrtle Beach?” Warren had retorted sarcastically. “I saw you down there, Beca. I was going crazy, I was ready to call the police, and I look down and see you standing down there, alone.”

“Firstly, you’re dramatic,” Beca had sighed, grabbing her phone and returning to the room. Not before a quick glance over the balcony, of course, in hopes of a Chloe sighting. However, she was apparently long gone, and Beca made an attempt to ignore her slight disappointment. She’d tugged the sliding door behind her, though not the whole way. “Secondly, I wasn’t alone. I told you, I was with a friend.”

“Well they were gone pretty damn quickly, Bec. Because when I looked down there just now, you were on your own.”

It hadn’t mattered to her that he hadn’t seen Chloe. The way they were standing would have blocked her father’s view of her, anyway. She doesn’t need to explain Chloe to him, though. What would she even say? ‘I saw her walking by the water, knew for no reason whatsoever that I had to go after her, so I did’? No. So, rather than fight back, Beca had simply glared at her father, ignored the sympathetic look Sheila had sent her way.

“Just get some sleep,” Warren had finally said, evidently admitting defeat himself. “We have to be up in a couple hours.”

And so Beca had, she’d slept. She’d slept and she’d had the most vivid dream. One in which she’d rolled over on the uncomfortable pull out couch to see Chloe laying beside her. It’d startled her for a second or two, but Chloe had lifted a finger up to her lips, quietly shushing her, and Beca had obeyed.

“You really need to cut your dad some slack, you know?” Chloe had whispered, fingers moving up to gently tuck a strand of mousy hair from Beca’s forehead and behind her ear. The soft touch had caused Beca to shiver slightly, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, Beca had appreciated it. She had appreciated the extra time with Chloe, even if it was all in her head. Then, when she’d woken up to the sound of the alarm, Beca had been sad to see Chloe go.

But that was okay, she’d be seeing her later. She just had the wedding to get through first.

* * *

As expected, the wedding had sucked.

Well, no, it had probably been a nice day for the bride and groom, and for people who actually wanted to be there. Beca, however, had had to spend the day smiling through repetitive conversations with distant family members, and by the time they’d arrived back to the room, Beca had been exhausted. So much so that she’d passed out pretty quickly, right there, on that uncomfortable pull out couch.

Beca doesn’t know what time it is when she wakes. She does know that the room is dark, though. She knows that there’s a stillness, broken only by the faint sound of her father snoring in the bed at the other side of the room. As she blinks into the darkness, it takes Beca a moment to register where she is, to register her surroundings. It is the sight of the balcony door, the way it’s open a fraction, that reminds Beca of something she has almost forgotten. It is that reminder that pulls her quickly from the bed and through the sliding doors, eyes almost desperately scanning the beach.

It strikes Beca that this is the first night she has looked out and hasn’t seen Chloe, and there is something of an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach in response. She considers going down there anyway, walking a little further down the beach and hoping to run into her, but sleep is all but shutting her body off. So, Beca defeatedly makes her way back inside, closing the door behind her, and crawls quietly back into bed, where she remains in a blissful, dreamless sleep until morning.

This time, when she wakes, it is to an annoyingly bright room, the sun streaming down onto her face, and Beca tries to blink it away. Though, it of course doesn’t move, so Beca begrudgingly peels herself from the couch, padding lazily across the cold floor, until she sees a note propped up against the television, her father’s handwriting scrawled messily across it:

_Bec, gone to get breakfast and do some exploring. Call me when you’re awake if you want to join us. Dad and Sheila._

“No, thank you,” Beca mumbles sarcastically to herself, scrunching the note in a balled fist, then setting it back down on the TV stand.

To begin with, Chloe isn’t even on her mind. Nothing is really, other than the fact that Beca clearly needed the mass amount of sleep she had last night, because she definitely feels refreshed as she tugs open the sliding door and makes her way out onto the balcony, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands. It is a little cooler today, the beach isn’t as full as Beca has seen it previously, though everybody might as well disappear once she catches sight of familiar red hair down by the water. Blue eyes immediately meet her own, and Beca thinks she sees a smile stretching across Chloe’s lips. She knows she sees her waving, so Beca quickly holds up a hand, motioning with a finger for Chloe to wait there, then makes quick work of heading back into the room and pulling on a clean outfit, before making her way down to the beach. To Chloe.

It may not be quite as warm today, but it’s also not _cold_, so Beca tugs off her flannel and wraps it around her waist, tying the sleeves into a loose knot at the front, just in time to meet Chloe. Chloe is waiting for her by the doors, the ones in the back of the hotel that lead out toward the beach, and Beca greets her with the kind of bright grin she doesn’t normally wear.

Then again, she does a lot of things with Chloe that she doesn’t normally do… Late night walks on unfamiliar beaches, asking for her number, dreaming about her… It’s a lot. Beca chooses not to divulge any of this to Chloe, of course.

“Eventful day yesterday?” Chloe questions, tone light and airy. “I knew you’d have fun.”

“If you call explaining my major and why I don’t have a boyfriend to a million aunts whose names I don’t even remember _fun_, then sure, it was fun,” Beca teases, easily falling into step beside Chloe as she leads them away from the hotel. “I’m sorry I didn’t show last night. I guess I was tired.”

“That’s okay,” Chloe assures her, “You haven’t been sleeping much. I waited a little bit, but when you didn’t show, I just figured you were either still at the reception, or you’d passed out.”

Beca offers her an apologetic look. “The latter.”

Chloe simply nods, though she doesn’t seem to be upset with her. There is a friendly smile on her lips, tone remaining breezy. “Well, you’re here now. You want to see something cool?”

Usually, Beca is not a fan of the unknown, but she doesn’t even question Chloe, doesn’t even ask where they’re going. She just agrees, and trusts Chloe as she leads the way, answering questions about the wedding and how beautiful her cousin’s dress had been. Chloe hangs onto every word, a look of adoration in her eyes. Apparently, she really does love weddings.

Although they seem to be walking for a while, Beca—admittedly a complete excercise-phobe—barely notices. Chloe has a way of keeping her attention, of making something as mundane as a walk along the beach interesting. Beca doesn’t realize quite how far they’ve gotten until she notices the lack of people around, and she is suddenly unable to see the row of hotels in the distance.

“This feels like something from a murder movie, just so you know,” Beca teases as Chloe leads her toward the nearby rocks. “Eerie, deserted corner of the beach, rocks that I’m pretty sure you’re about to make me climb… I’m safe with you, right?”

Chloe doesn’t even look back at her, but Beca can hear her gentle laugh, see the way she shakes her head. “I’m not going to murder you. You’re safe with me.” Finally, Chloe turns to shoot a glance over her shoulder, a somewhat knowing smirk displayed across her lips. “I am going to make you climb, though, yes. Follow me.”

Beca is really not an outdoorsy person—so much walking, and apparently _climbing_, is really not her thing—but she barely pauses to think about it before she is following Chloe onto the rocks and making her way up them behind her. They don’t go all the way to the top, but they get pretty close to it, until they have reached a flat, protruding piece of rock, and Chloe hoists herself easily up onto it.

“Uh, you’re sure that’s safe?” Beca questions cautiously, though she takes Chloe’s hand regardless, allowing her to help her up. They are soon both seated side by side, legs swinging over the edge, and looking out across the vast ocean before them, watching the waves as they rock almost lazily against one another.

“Told you it was cool,” Chloe grins, gently nudging Beca’s arm. Her voice is a little softer, more in keeping with the scene before them. “Right?”

“It’s definitely something,” Beca agrees, gaze cast out over the water. She doesn’t realize Chloe is watching her, not until she turns toward her, too. There is a look on Chloe’s face, something Beca can’t quite place. It’s content, and her small smile is so relaxed, so natural, that Beca can literally see the joy in her eyes. Beca studies Chloe for a moment, thinks about the last time they were this close—granted, it had been in a dream, but it still just feels so familiar, so _real_. Beca doesn’t really notice the silence surrounding them at first. Once it catches up to her, though, she pulls her gaze from Chloe’s, tongue flicking out to lick over her lips, and quickly turns to look out over the water again.

“Maybe it doesn’t totally suck to live here,” Beca muses.

“Not if you know the right places.”

“Do you spend a lot of time on your own?” Beca questions, for some reason comfortable enough to pry—something she wouldn’t normally do. Again, Chloe apparently has some kind of spell on her, some way of getting her to do things she wouldn’t usually do. Beca doesn’t hate it, though. Maybe she should try to open up to people more. For now, she’s content with Chloe. More than, in fact.

“I do,” Chloe responds easily, gently shrugging a shoulder. “I don’t really have many friends here.”

“What about at home? In Charlotte?”

“Oh, I had a lot of friends in Charlotte.”

“They don’t visit you?”

“Sometimes,” Chloe nods, “And sometimes I visit them.”

“But it must be kind of lonely between those visits, right?” Beca asks, voice a little softer. She finds her gaze drifting back toward Chloe, and notices Chloe is the one staring out at the water now. “You don’t really seem like the kind of person who likes to be alone. You have too much to give.”

At first, Chloe doesn’t respond. She just laughs quietly, eyes flickering downward. By the time she picks her gaze up to stare back at Beca, there is a new look in them, something Beca hasn’t witnessed yet. Chloe’s bright, shiny blue eyes are now slightly glazed over, almost a little watery. It somehow makes the blue color pop even more. “I’m okay,” Chloe whispers, head nodding softly. Although her voice sounds sad, there is a small smile on her lips, one that reassures Beca beyond reason. “I am.”

Beca chews on the inside of her cheek, expression growing a mixture of both sad and concerned. “Right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Chloe responds with another soft laugh, a soft hand sliding across the rock to settle gently on top of Beca’s. “You didn’t.”

The contact causes a small shiver throughout Beca’s body, and she instinctively glances down, but doesn’t pull her hand away, not like she normally would in this situation. Instead, she surprises herself by parting her fingers until Chloe’s slot neatly between them, with Beca closing the gaps.

And there is nothing more to say, not right away. So they just sit, fingers intertwined comfortably, and look out over the water, allowing the serenity to both soothe and engulf them both.

“Is this weird?” Beca finally asks, pulling her gaze from the water and moving it down to their connected hands.

“It is,” Chloe nods, “But not for the reasons you think.”

Beca’s brows tug together, eyes moving up to look at Chloe’s face. She can’t read her expression very well. “What?”

The way Chloe gently squeezes her fingers has Beca glancing back down again, almost distracted. “Nothing,” Chloe murmurs with a small shake of her head, “It’s not weird.”

“It is for me,” Beca admits, noticing the look of subtle amusement on Chloe’s face in response.

“I can stop holding your hand, if you want?” Chloe offers, beginning to move her fingers from their comfortable space between Beca’s, though Beca doesn’t let her. Instead, she flips her hand to meet Chloe’s palm with her own, fingers lacing easily again.

“No,” Beca shakes her head, “I just meant I don’t normally… I don’t know, connect so easily with people.”

“Then maybe I’m special,” Chloe smirks, eyes slightly hooded.

“Yeah,” Beca nods, gaze instinctively drifting to Chloe’s lips, “Maybe you are.”

Until now, until this exact moment, Beca has never had a spontaneous, in the moment kiss. Not one that isn’t fueled by alcohol or raging hormones, but as Chloe leans closer, Beca doesn’t pull away. Their lips meet in a way that causes Beca’s heart to race, causes her lids to flutter shut, and suddenly her entire body is consumed by the woman beside her. Beca doesn’t feel the soft breeze anymore, doesn’t hear the sounds of the slowly crashing waves, she’s just… She’s soaked up in everything Chloe, and when they eventually part, Beca notes that she instantly misses the contact.

“Still weird?” Chloe questions quietly, teeth sinking slightly into her bottom lip.

Beca nods, though her gaze lowers to Chloe’s mouth again, and Beca doesn’t even give her a verbal response. Instead, she leans back in, free hand moving up to settle on the back of Chloe’s neck, before their lips are meeting again easily. Beca’s fingers wind through thick, auburn curls, and both bodies move closer to one another’s, until they are pressed tightly together, and two sets of lips have parted to deepen their kiss.

“We should stop,” Chloe mumbles against Beca’s lips, though she doesn’t actually stop. She moves back in, easily reconnecting their lips between words. “You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Facebook,” Beca mumbles in response, causing Chloe to pause briefly, before she giggles against Beca’s lips.

“Okay, fine,” Chloe murmurs, relaxing once more into the kiss. She pulls back eventually though, to the sound of a soft, disappointed whine from the back of Beca’s throat. There is a look of amusement etched across Chloe’s pale features, and she lifts her free hand, the one not holding onto Beca’s, up to press a finger to Beca’s lips to keep her from leaning back in.

The whole thing is so familiar. Chloe being this close to her, her finger pressed to her lips… It is like her dream, and Beca internally questions whether this is real, whether she’s about to wake up any second now. She doesn’t speak, she just looks, brows knitting together in questioning.

“You asked if you were safe with me, and you are,” Chloe promises, “But if we get too carried away up here, I can’t really guarantee that anymore.” She chuckles quietly, glancing downward, “It’s a pretty long way down.”

Although something inside of her wants to just say fuck it, throw caution directly to the wind, Beca knows that Chloe is right, so she eventually takes a breath in, before nodding her head.

“Come on,” Chloe instructs, pulling her hand free from Beca’s, before shuffling toward the edge of the rock. She slips easily from it and onto the one below. “You need me to help you down?”

“No,” Beca shakes her head, watching Chloe’s movements, memorizing where she needs to step herself, “I think I’m good.”

Chloe takes her word for it, and begins climbing expertly down the rocks. Beca follows a little less steadily, but she makes it down to the safety of the sand, hand reconnecting with Chloe’s for the final step down.

“Uh, I don’t think my dad will be back at the hotel yet,” Beca offers a little awkwardly, wondering if the moment is over.

Chloe smirks, motioning with her head for Beca to follow her. Since their fingers are laced already, Beca trails dutifully along behind her, until they are in what Beca can only describe as a small cave among the rocks.

“It’s not really a hotel room,” Chloe frowns, turning to face Beca.

Chloe doesn’t get to say anything more, not before Beca is tugging her closer and reconnecting their lips. “I don’t care,” Beca mumbles into the kiss, and soon Chloe’s fingers are sliding into the back of mousy hair, while Beca’s begin to explore the slender body pressed up tightly against her own.

This trip is proving to hold a lot of firsts for Beca: first time being mesmerized by a stranger on the beach, first spontaneous kiss, and apparently now her first time having sex in a literal cave.

It all happens pretty quickly; Chloe’s hands sliding from Beca’s hair and toward Beca’s hands, which she pulls gently upward and above her head, until she can carefully lay her down on what is an admittedly uncomfortable floor, but Beca doesn’t care. Beca doesn’t care about anything but the woman hovering over the top of her, peppering small open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, then right the way down her neck and toward her exposed chest. Beca is desperate to explore too, to have her hands roaming all over Chloe’s body, but she is distracted by Chloe’s lips, by the way Chloe is moving both of Beca’s hands to just one of her own, then letting the other ghost down Beca’s torso, until Chloe is fumbling with the button of Beca’s shorts.

Beca can’t quite explain the release she feels at that first touch. The way Chloe’s slender fingers slide inside of the fabric of her already damp panties and begin to glide through wet folds causes a desperate sounding whimper from the back of Beca’s throat. She gives in easily to the restraint that is Chloe’s hand wrapped around both of her own, legs parting to allow Chloe more room to work.

“Hands to yourself, okay?” Chloe instructs in a soft voice, though there is something demanding about it, too. Something that has Beca nodding as a whimper falls from her kiss-swollen lips in response to the tight circles Chloe is rubbing against her swollen clit. Somewhat slowly, Chloe releases the hold she has on Beca’s hands, only to begin lowering down her body, hand slipping out from between Beca’s legs. Her fingers wrap around the fabric of her shorts, tugging them swiftly down her thighs. Damp panties follow, until Chloe is settling between trembling thighs, head ducking to swipe her pointed tongue against Beca’s throbbing clit. The movement pulls an instant reaction from the back of Beca’s throat. Her hips lift slightly, and a relieved moan rings through the air around them.

Beca has never been with a girl before, but it seems like Chloe is some kind of expert. The way she moves her tongue against her, the way she slides a hand along Beca’s thigh until she can slip a long finger inside of her, it is all just done so expertly, and Beca’s body reacts instantly to the overwhelming sensation.

This isn’t just sex, Beca thinks as her body writhes beneath Chloe, as she pants her way closer to her natural edge. Chloe’s tongue is moving in a fast rhythm across sensitive flesh, her finger arching inside of her, and Beca can literally _hear_ how wet she is. Beca notes that this is incredible, mind-blowing, out of this world sex. Then when Beca comes, she comes hard. She is a trembling, whimpering, moaning mess beneath Chloe’s touch, legs shaking as Chloe’s movements slow and she helps her through her high.

“It’s a good thing I brought you to the… What did you call it, eerie murder sight?” Chloe teases as she kisses her way back up Beca’s body. Beca is still moaning softly, repetitively, and her lips search eagerly for Chloe’s once she is close enough. Chloe chuckles quietly as she reconnects their lips, chin wet with evidence of Beca’s arousal, “You’re not quiet.”

“How am I supposed to be quiet when you’re—” Beca tries, though her words are spoken breathlessly, and she is cut off by the kiss she finds herself getting lost in all over again. Beca feels the way Chloe’s lips curve upward against her own, and she can’t help the way hers do the same.

“Dude, I think I’m kind of addicted to you,” Beca murmurs as Chloe pulls back from the kiss.

Chloe responds with a soft giggle, pushing another small peck to Beca’s lips. “I’m okay with that.”

Beca nods, lifting her head to capture Chloe’s lips once more. “Me too.”

* * *

Beca doesn’t get to return the favor. She wants to, but they find themselves getting lost in a heated makeout session, and somehow it just… Doesn’t go that way. But Chloe doesn’t seem put out by it, and Beca isn’t about to beg her to let her fuck her, no matter how much she may want to.

It has gotten a little colder once they emerge from the cave, and Beca wonders if maybe it is going to rain. Not that she cares too much. She doesn’t even notice the goosebumps rising to her skin under the breeze that sweeps over them as they begin to walk away from the cave; she is still busy riding her previous high, adrenaline keeping her body hot.

Chloe, on the other hand, is wearing a sundress, one made of what looks like thin fabric, and Beca frowns as she eyes her. “Aren’t you cold?” She questions, tugging her flannel from around her waist in spite of the way Chloe shakes her head. She doesn’t fight her as Beca lifts the garment to drape over Chloe’s shoulders, and instead just shoots her an appreciative smile, hand catching Beca’s. Their fingers lace through one another’s with ease, and Beca returns Chloe’s smile with a genuine one of her own.

Beca hadn’t noticed how far they’d walked on the way to the rocks, but the distance seems to be somehow shorter on the way back, and an empty feeling washes over her once they reach the hotel. All things considered, Beca is much less nervous now than she had been standing in this spot with Chloe two nights ago.

“Do you want to come up to the room for a little bit?” Beca offers, turning to face Chloe.

“Your dad might be there,” Chloe points out, and while Beca wants to say it doesn’t matter, she also doesn’t want to deal with his questions. So, with a slight frown on her face, she eventually nods her head.

“Okay, you’re right. We could go grab some food or something, though?”

There is an apologetic look on Chloe’s face as her hand squeezes gently onto Beca’s, before releasing her hold. “I can’t, I actually have to be somewhere,” she pouts, and Beca tries to hide her disappointment. Apparently, she doesn’t do a very good job at it, and Chloe responds with a soft grin. “Don’t give me that face. You have one more night here, right? Just come out to the balcony once they’re sleeping. I’ll be here.”

Beca wants to fight her, to insist Chloe blow off whatever prior commitments she may have and just spend the day with her, but that feels kind of needy, even by Beca’s apparent new standards, so she finally nods, accepting defeat.

They don’t share another kiss. Chloe leans in, but this time it is to touch her lips delicately to Beca’s cheek. Beca’s eyes close as she savors the feeling, only opening again once Chloe has pulled back. Their gazes meet, and Beca offers Chloe a small yet satisfied smile, one that Chloe mirrors in response. She takes off the flannel, handing it over to Beca.

“Tonight, okay?” Chloe says, taking a couple steps back. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Beca doesn’t see her again.


	4. Four

Beca fidgets throughout the rest of the day, willing nighttime to fall. She barely eats at dinner with her dad and Sheila. Maybe just because she is so eager to get down to the beach, down to Chloe, it seems to take them forever to fall asleep. Eventually, though, they do, and Beca barely waits until her father is snoring to peel herself quietly from the bed and shuffle out to the balcony.

She waits. The beach is shadowed by a blanket of darkness and a starry sky, and while it is cooler tonight than those previous, Beca continues to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The sun has begun to rise by the time Beca finally admits defeat, and a thousand different scenarios fly through her mind. She worries that something has happened, wonders if Chloe has just gotten caught up and hasn’t been able to leave. The thought flashes through her mind that maybe Chloe had gotten what she wanted earlier today in the cave, and Beca feels physically sick. She doesn’t want to leave Myrtle Beach without seeing Chloe again, and she certainly doesn’t want to leave with a bad taste in her mouth about Chloe, but it is difficult not to when the new day begins and Beca has to head for the airport, an even mixture of anger, sadness and disappointment swirling through her body.

It turns out there are plenty of Chloes in South Carolina. Without a last name, it proves impossible for Beca to find who she is looking for as she scans through Facebook. She tries Chloe South Carolina, Chloe Charlotte, Chloe North Carolina, and is met with a few profile pictures displaying a pretty redhead, but none of them are Chloe.

Beca spends the flight home feeling bitter. Used, even. It isn’t a feeling she likes, and she’s even brattier than usual with her father once he drops her off at her mom’s place. It is already evening, so with the promise to tell her mother all about her trip in the morning before she disappears to go meet a friend, Beca is at least able to escape to her room pretty quickly, where she flops down onto her still unmade bed in frustration, grateful to have the house to herself.

Impossibilities flash through Beca’s mind, until she begins to think she has gone crazy. She wonders if she somehow imagined the whole thing, if maybe her time with Chloe was all just a figment of her imagination. Maybe she is just _that_ touch starved, that lonely from a lifetime of pushing everybody away, she had to make up some wild, fast-paced vacation fling to keep herself happy.

It is a fleeting thought, of course. Beca knows that it was real, that everything she experienced, everything she felt with Chloe, it was all real. And Beca isn’t ready to give up on her yet, even if she has been given every indication that she probably should.

Unpacking her luggage can wait until tomorrow, but Beca slips her laptop from her hand luggage, tipping it from it’s protective case, and sets it on the bed in front of her, legs crossing pretzel style as she boots the system up.

Is it kind of weird to sit here and google someone who apparently doesn’t want to be found? Yeah, maybe. But so is the thought that it had all been some kind of fever dream, so Beca pulls up the search engine, typing: Chloe, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina into the search bar. No, she wasn’t able to find her on Facebook before, but surely Chloe has some kind of social media. Surely she exists _somewhere_ in the depths of the internet.

Beca expects an Instagram link, or maybe Chloe’s name is listed on the contact page of wherever she works.

However, the first link to pop up is not one to social media. Nor is it to some boring office job she could never see Chloe working.

Myrtle Beach Tragedy: Body Identified

For half a second, Beca’s heart stops. Her eyes dart to the date the article was published.

_May 11, 2015_

Her shoulders relax, and Beca can breathe again. She had expected today to be the publication date, and as nauseous as it makes her feel to even think it, it would’ve explained Chloe’s lack of presence last night.

Her gaze lowers to the second link, another article from a different news site about the same 2015 tragedy.

While Beca skips past it without thought, something has her clicking on the third:

Obituary for Chloe Alice Beale, 23. Charlotte, North Carolina

It is the location that has Beca’s blood running cold, but as the page loads up, the picture beside the lengthy message detailing Chloe Beale’s death is what almost stops her heart. It is almost like Beca’s entire soul leaves her body for a moment as she stares at those familiar blue eyes. They’re so full of life as they stare back at her from the screen, and it is with a shaky finger that Beca quickly backspaces out of the page, scrambling back up to the first link. She clicks on it to be met with another picture, this one of Chloe in a yellow sundress, bright smile on her lips.

Beca’s mouth goes dry as she reads the accompanying article.

**Girl, 23, drowns during family vacation at Myrtle Beach, SC.**

_A girl, identified as Chloe Beale, 23, of Charlotte NC, was enjoying a family vacation at a popular Myrtle Beach resort when tragedy struck. Chloe, who was swimming with her older brother Michael, 25, in the Atlantic Ocean has drowned following a tragic accident, we can report. Her leg became caught by waste on the ocean floor. Despite Michael’s attempts to unwrap her leg once he realized Chloe was in distress, unfortunately the 23 year old did not survive._

_The stretch of Myrtle Beach adjoined to the South Bay Inn, where Chloe’s family were staying, and surrounding hotels has been closed to the public for the rest of the day, though authorities suspect no foul play, and it is expected to reopen tomorrow, May 12._

Where she may have felt nauseous before, Beca now has to run to the nearest bathroom, where she proceeds to bring up anything she may have forced herself to eat at dinner last night. Her eyes are streaming once she is done, and Beca slumps to the bathroom floor, heart hammering inside of her chest.

She doesn’t know how long she stays there, frozen, already pale face drained of any color, before she finally picks herself up—unsteadily—from the cold floor. Her feet won’t move properly, legs practically locked, but she shuffles slowly back to the bedroom. Everything is silent, save for the sound of Beca’s breathing. It is pained, almost gasped, though it stops as she steps through the bedroom door and her eyes land on the figure seated on the edge of her bed.

“What the fu—” Beca begins, eyes instantly filled with terror.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe quickly says, closing the lid of the laptop and standing up hurriedly from the bed. There is fear in her eyes, too. Familiar blue eyes are glazed over again, tears threatening to spill over her lids. Beca doesn’t have the luxury of holding hers back, she’s too overwhelmed, too confused, too _petrified_, and salty liquid begins to roll freely down her cheeks. She backs toward the door, which closes with the movement of Beca pressing up against it, and stares at a panic-stricken Chloe.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Chloe repeats, shaking her head. She can clearly see how terrified Beca is, so opts not to move any closer. Chloe just stands, desperate to reach forward, but knowing better of it. “Beca, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. I tried to—”

“You tried to tell me _what_?” Beca manages to stutter out between ragged breaths and choked up words. She knows that whatever she just read, she _knows_ it can’t be real. _Chloe_ can’t be real. There is no way there is a dead girl standing in her bedroom. The dead are just that… They’re _dead_. This is crazier than anything Beca could’ve ever imagined, it puts all of her other wild assumptions to shame.

“I...” Chloe shakes her head, “You saw the article. I tried to tell you yesterday, up on the rocks.”

Beca is trying to hang onto Chloe’s words, trying to process them, but how can she? She is very much mid-panic attack right now, blinking quickly in an effort to wake herself from what is obviously a very vivid, very unfair nightmare. But, each time her eyes open, Beca is still right there, pressed up against the door, and Chloe is standing before her, desperately trying to explain herself.

“You asked if it was weird, and I said yes but not for the reasons you thought. I wanted to tell you, I was going to, but I didn’t know how. What was I supposed to say... I’m dead?”

The last word seems to catch in Chloe’s throat, comes out somewhat higher pitched. It causes Beca to choke out a sob, hand reaching for the door handle.

“It’s true, okay?” Chloe continues, tone somehow both firm yet gentle. All Beca can do is blink in response. “Everything you read, it’s true. I know it’s crazy, and this stuff doesn’t happen in real life. It doesn’t even happen in movies. But it’s real, Beca.”

There is a brief pause, and Beca doesn’t know whether she is supposed to respond or not. Either way, she doesn’t. Mostly because she can’t. She has forgotten how to speak, forgotten how to _move_. She just stays, frozen to the spot, wide, terrified eyes on Chloe, before finally finding her voice. It is broken and stammered, though. It is barely even coherent.

“So… So what,” Beca tries, “What are you? A…” she swallows, “A ghost?”

It is an almost laughable question, it really is, but there is absolutely nothing humorous about this—about any of it.

Fortunately, Chloe still has access to her voice. She speaks clearly enough to overpower the way Beca can hear her heartbeat exploding in her ears.

“Something like that, yeah,” Chloe nods, clear devastation in her crystal blue eyes. “I don’t really know how to explain what I am. I don’t walk through walls, I don’t shapeshift or teleport or anything like that.”

_Right_, Beca thinks, _Because_ that _would be crazy_.

“Then how did you get here?” Beca asks, somehow managing more coherent, more structured words. Her heart is still racing, her hands still shaking violently, but she is somehow beginning to wrap her mind around this, around the fact that it’s happening. Whatever the fuck inexplicable occurrence this is, it’s happening, and the proof is standing right before her.

“Got on your flight,” Chloe says, shrug almost defeated. “I can go places, and I can do things, because nobody sees me. Not until you.”

Almost like a montage, various memories flash through Beca’s mind.

The way Chloe seemed so confused by their meeting on the beach, how surprised she seemed that Beca was talking to her.

The cold ocean water having no effect on Chloe’s bare feet.

Her father looking down and only seeing Beca, when Chloe had very much been standing there, too.

“You don’t like the water,” Beca says, almost a little dumbly, but her thoughts are finally sorting themselves into making some kind of sense. She is finally making _some_ sense of such a nonsensical situation. Beca’s gaze flickers briefly toward the closed laptop, though it’s pulled quickly back to Chloe. “That’s why?”

Chloe nods.

“So why do you stay in Myrtle Beach?”

Of all of the questions flying through Beca’s mind, it seems like the least important one to ask. But it’s difficult for her to prioritize what she should say and when. It truly is a miracle that Beca is even managing to speak at this point, so she just stares at Chloe expectantly, fear still clear in her eyes, but it is somehow dissipating a little bit. Even now, even in this entirely fucked up, entirely insane situation, Chloe’s presence, the one that’s scaring her so badly, is also somehow managing to soothe her.

“I kind of have to,” Chloe says in a small voice, glancing down toward her feet. “I don’t know how all of this works. I just know that even though I can leave, like I can be here right now, it’s hard for me to stay away. Even now, there’s this nagging in my mind, this invisible rope tugging me back. And I can fight it for a little bit, but then it gets overwhelming, and I have to just give in to it.”

“Where do you live?” Beca asks, pausing as her eyes lock with Chloe’s. “Or… You know what I mean.”

“Myrtle Beach,” Chloe responds simply. “I don’t have a house, I don’t,” she air-quotes, “‘haunt’ people. I just kind of… exist. At the beach.”

Beca nods her head slowly, somehow understanding, before the realization hits her all over again that this is completely fucked up.

“Dude, no, this is insane. This isn’t… We had sex!” The fact that she’s even saying this has her heart racing again, mind desperately trying to claw for an explanation. “I could _feel_ you. You’re a person, you’re not cold, you’re not… No, this is fucked up. You’re fucking with me.” In spite of her words, Beca has let go of the door handle, she has regained some feeling in her legs. Beca is _comforted_ by Chloe, and while she can’t explain it, she just… Is.

“I’m not made of some clear matter. I told you, I can’t walk through walls or anything. To me, I’m a person, I’m the same as I always was. I guess that’s the same for you, too. You can see me, you can feel me. I don’t know how, I can’t explain it. But you can. I’m here, right?”

As confused as Beca still is, as scared as she still is, her feet begin to carry her forward, albeit slowly, until she is standing right in front of Chloe. Chloe doesn’t move, she stays in her current spot, just watching Beca’s movements. Chloe watches as Beca slowly lifts a shaky hand, follows the movement of her fingers as they delicately touch her bare arm. Beca jumps slightly, and Chloe understands it. She doesn’t move away, doesn’t do anything to scare Beca any further than she already has.

Beca’s gaze is glued to Chloe. She watches the way her chest moves, like she’s taking normal, regular breaths, just like any normal person would. She moves her hand cautiously upward, twisting a lock of red hair slowly around her finger. For some reason, Beca expects it to feel weird, but it doesn’t. Just like it hadn’t when they’d been making out yesterday. Everything about Chloe is so real, it’s all right there in front of her, and Beca has even less of an explanation for it than Chloe does.

“I’m sorry I didn’t show last night,” Chloe whispers, and Beca doesn’t know whether the quiet tone is because Chloe is embarrassed, or because she doesn’t want to speak too loudly and startle her. Beca just watches her without responding, waiting for Chloe to go on. Her fingertips move from Chloe’s hair and down to her shoulder, then slowly across to her chest. While it is still moving, Beca notices a distinct lack of a heartbeat, something she hadn’t even thought to consider before.

“I realized I’d let things go too far. And that you were leaving, and as much as it sucked for me, as much as I didn’t want you to go, I at least know the whole story. You don’t. Or you didn’t. I figured, you know, just let it end there. Maybe you’d be mad at me and you’d forget about me. I don’t want you to hate me, Beca, but I’d rather that if it meant you forgetting than you having to know the truth.”

Again, it’s crazy. It’s all so fucking crazy. But again, Beca understands it. She understands what Chloe is saying, understands where she is coming from.

“You must be so lonely,” Beca says in a quiet, whispered voice, hand still slowly moving along Chloe’s warm skin.

“I am,” Chloe admits, volume matching Beca’s. “I am, and I guess I must’ve done something really bad before all of this, because this must be my own personal version of Hell.”

“I don’t believe that,” Beca whispers, gaze finally locking with Chloe’s. Her voice is still shaky, her heart still thudding loudly, but at least she thinks her words are making sense now.

“You don’t believe in Heaven and Hell?”

“I don’t believe that you could’ve done anything bad.”

For the first time during this encounter, a small smile eases its way onto Chloe’s lips. “I don’t know about that. I let you get involved with a dead girl.” Her laugh is gentle and halfhearted, and Beca doesn’t mirror it, so Chloe’s expression becomes sympathetic. “I really am sorry, Beca. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. When I saw you on the balcony, I didn’t think it was even possible that you’d seen me, too. I didn’t know that I’d get so attached to you so quickly, and I didn’t mean for you to get attached to me in return. None of this is fair, I know. I really am so, so sorry.”

Beca doesn’t really know how to respond at first. She just slowly nods her head, accepts Chloe’s apology, though she realizes that she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want Chloe to be sorry, because for all the crazy that this is, for how totally and completely screwed up it is, she hadn’t imagined that connection. Just like she hadn’t imagined Chloe.

“Can you… Say something?” Chloe urges gently, for the first time making a slow movement. She lifts her hand to settle delicately over the top of Beca’s, where it still remains on her chest, and laces her fingers through the gaps.

Beca does the same in return.

“I don’t want you to go,” Beca whispers, half unable to believe the fact that she is actually saying it. Then again, blurting out her inexplicably strong feelings for someone she apparently managed to fall for from that very first sighting really doesn’t seem like such a big deal right now, not in the grand scheme of things. So Beca, a person who has never believed in soulmates, never opened up to anybody the way she is already opening up to Chloe, continues. “I don’t. I’ve never felt like this before, and I know that that’s fucking crazy, but.” Beca doesn’t even know how to finish her sentence, her shoulder just slumps in slight defeat, empty feeling returning to her stomach. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Bec, you know I have to,” Chloe says in a gentle voice, “I don’t want to either, but I have to.”

Beca nods slowly, anguish in her eyes. “I know,” she whispers. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t a dream…” Beca stops mid-sentence, and Chloe chews on her bottom lip, knowing exactly the thought in Beca’s mind.

“You weren’t dreaming,” Chloe confirms. “You’re not dreaming now, and you weren’t in the hotel room that night. I just had to see you, and the door was open so I just took my chance.”

“But what if I have to see you?” Beca says, her gaze now fixed on Chloe. She finds that she is mesmerized by her all over again, now a far cry from the hyperventilating mess she’d been only moments ago pressed up in terror against the door. Beca is consumed, not for the first time, by Chloe Beale.

“Planning anymore vacations to Myrtle Beach?” Chloe asks, tone half playful, half hopeful. Beca meets her with sad eyes, and Chloe offers her an apologetic look. She stays silent for a moment, almost like she is mentally battling with herself, before finally letting out a small exhale. “This is a really unfair promise for me to make, because this isn’t a normal situation, and it isn’t something you should have to be involved in. But I know that you are already, and the selfish part of me won’t let me forget it. So what if I promise to come back?”

“How often?” Beca questions in a quiet voice. She still can’t even believe this conversation is happening, but it is, and Beca is rolling with it. It’s insane and it’s inexplicable, but she’s rolling with it, because she has no other choice. A matter of days together, and Beca is already in too deep. Just like she’d thought before, Chloe Beale is someone important, someone who’s going to stick with her.

“Often,” Chloe responds, “As long as I can get to you, I will.”

Beca wants something more solid than that, something more reliable, but there is a pained look on Chloe’s face, one that has Beca’s heart hurting a little bit. “You have to go, don’t you?”

Chloe meets her gaze with a sad smile and a small nod of her head.

“Invisible rope, right?”

“Invisible rope,” Chloe nods.

Beca doesn’t want to let go of her hand, but as Chloe’s grip loosens on her fingers, Beca forces her own to do the same, and that empty feeling reemerges deep within her as she holds eye contact with Chloe.

“A promise is a promise,” Chloe says, offering Beca another weak smile. Beca just stares in response, eye contact only breaking for Chloe to lean in and push a delicate, lingering kiss to Beca’s cheek.

Beca knows there isn’t anything she can do to stop her, so she just stays planted to the spot, just watches as Chloe backs toward the open window, climbing out with grace.

Even once Chloe leaves, once she is out of sight, Beca still doesn’t move. It’s like she’s frozen again, stuck with the memory of the weirdest, most obscure situation of her life, but the one that has had the most impact.

Beca raises a hand slowly to touch her fingertips to her cheek, feels the warmth left behind from Chloe’s departing kiss.

Less than a week passes before Chloe shows up again, entering through the open window. Her presence startles Beca at first, though she is quickly overcome with such relief, such desperate need to just be with Chloe, and that soon takes over. It doesn’t occur to her that Chloe doesn’t sleep, not until she wakes the following morning to protective arms wrapped around her, blue eyes staring contentedly up at the ceiling.

From there on out, Beca keeps her window open, even if only a fraction.

And Chloe keeps her promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for humoring me by reading this! I considered a few extra chapters, such as an in-depth look into Chloe's first visit, or Beca's next trip to Myrtle Beach, but I figured this was a good place to end. I do have a couple one-shot ideas swirling around in addition to this verse, though. As always, you can find me on [tumblr](http://snowbritt.tumblr.com). Happy Halloween!


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